


The Lusty Detective Boys

by Dame Vivian (charleychibi)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, Drabble, Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Humor, ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 19:56:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charleychibi/pseuds/Dame%20Vivian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John frickle frackle for the first time. Crack PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lusty Detective Boys

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know, guys. I kinda wrote this from midnight to three in the morning. And I also got help from two sleep deprived dudes. And the WTF Fanfiction list of words for genitals. Thank you all. I hope you enjoy.

The rain was falling heavier now, the raindrops sounding like tiny jackhammers on the glass windowpane. Sherlock hurried inside, soggy newspaper covering his ebony curls yet unable to keep himself from getting wet. He sighed as he walked into the living room of 221b Baker Street and John knew almost immediately that Sherlock was in a complaining mood.

“John,” he began and his helpless flatmate was left to roll his eyes.  “Do you have any idea what I had to go through to get here?”

John repositioned himself on the chair he was previously reading in before he was so rudely interrupted. “No, Sherlock. What did you have go through to get here?”

John, of course, anticipated the answer but he let his soaking wet flatmate respond anyway. Just to be polite.

“I had to walk three blocks until I finally found a taxi and then there was a road block so I got out of the taxi and decided to walk when I lost my umbrella and had to pick up a newspaper at a nearby bus stop just so I could keep somewhat dry.”

“Mhm.”

“John, are you paying attention at all?”

John was, in fact, not paying attention at all. While speaking, Sherlock had paced back and forth, taking off his scarf and jacket, revealing his white shirt soaked straight through. While Sherlock was speaking, John couldn’t help but let his mind (and eyes) wander to other places. The shirt clung to the consulting detective’s toned abdomen, contouring his muscles and highlighting his nipples.

“John?” Sherlock asked again with concern.

“Yes, I heard you. Bad day. Do you want a towel?”

John spoke so quickly he wasn’t even sure he had spoken at all. But his body moved in response towards the men’s room to grab a fresh towel without waiting for a response from Sherlock himself. Quickly, and to get his mind off of his flatmate’s gorgeous body, he grabbed a navy blue towel and carried it back into the living room where he stopped dead in his tracks. Sherlock was standing in the middle of the room shirtless now, hand beckoning towards him. It took him a minute to realize that Sherlock wanted the towel that was currently in his hands and not John himself. Handing the towel over, John turned swiftly to remove himself from the room.

“I think I’ll go to bed now if you don’t mind, Sherlock.”

“Hold on,” Sherlock stopped him before John could climb the stairs towards his room.

John turned slowly to look at the half-naked man of pure lust and desire wrapped in ebony curls and high cheekbones. Sherlock’s hair was in a state of absolute disarray from the vigorous drying with the navy blue towel that now hung around his neck. John tried to keep his eyes above the towel, using that as a sort of border between what was appropriate to gawk at and what was not. However, this seemed to fail when John could not help but gawk at the other man’s hair, so notoriously messy, and so arousing.

“John,” Sherlock began, “I see the way you look at me.”

John felt his cheeks get hot and knew he was turning a bright red. Sherlock walked a little closer, slowly, one step at a time. John wanted so badly to get out of there but could not force his legs to move. Sherlock stopped when he was just a foot away from the other man.

“The way you look at me with such obvious lust in your eyes,” Sherlock growled lowly.

John let out a squeak of a noise. He couldn’t bring himself to say actual words. Sherlock was closer now, his nose practically touching his own. He could feel Sherlock’s breath on his lips, warm and moist, as he spoke again in a whisper.

“I want to put my dingle dangle in your party hole.”

John let out a moan he didn’t know he was holding back and Sherlock seized the opportunity to pull his flatmate closer and push his lips against the others’. Their tongues fought for dominance like the British colonies in the revolutionary war.

“I want to plough you like 160 acres of fertile farmland,” John breathed heavily into Sherlock’s mouth while their lips were parted.

“I would absolutely love to exchange bodily fluids with you,” Sherlock heaved a reply.

Sherlock began to remove John’s jumper as he fumbled with the consulting detective’s belt. They hurriedly removed their clothes and tossed them aside, not caring what Ms. Hudson would think if she were to walk in on the room in such disarray. They continued to kiss passionately as they stumbled up the steps to John’s room.

Closing the door firmly behind them, Sherlock shoved John down onto his bed and straddled his hips, rocking his throbbing accumulation of rigid masculinity against John’s mighty sword of Eros.

“Bite the pillow. I’m going in dry,” Sherlock warned.

John got up on his knees, ass towards the consulting detective, and grabbed onto the headboard of his bed. Sherlock spread his flatmate’s love mounds to reveal the soft pucker of his sweetness and readied his pork sword.

“Next stop: Uranus.”

John groaned weakly as Sherlock slammed his colossal fuck cannon into him. The consulting detective analyzed John’s every movement and calculated his desires. Science of Deduction, motherfucker. Steadily, Sherlock pounded John’s cute tushy, angling and positioning himself for optimized pleasurable sensations.

“So sugoi,” John moaned kawaiily.

Sherlock’s cheekbones quivered with delight as he continued to pulverize John’s portable fuck factory. The detective let out sonorous gasps of pleasure as his flatmate’s cock cave clenched tightly around his schlongdoodle. John’s throbbing giggle stick began to drip with morning dew like a teenage otaku touching a body pillow of Sailor Moon for the first time.

“John,” Sherlock moaned. “I don’t know how much longer I can last like this.”

John groaned and backed into Sherlock’s thrusts which were becoming more and more erratic. Their breathing was now bordering hyperventilation and sweat was accumulating on their backs and foreheads like interest on a savings account of over a million bells in Animal Crossing: New Leaf.

“Do it, Sherlock. Pour your fuckfluid into my anal fortress of love.”

With a final thrust of his reawakened dragon, Sherlock released his liquid love into John’s hobbit hole. His mighty man noodle finally tuckered out like a college student who watched too many episodes of Ouren High School Host Club on Netflix. Like, seriously. What were you thinking? You had an exam the next morning! Jesus Christ. Whoever said you could live alone?

John climaxed beneath the consulting detective, unleashing load after load of liquefied pleasure onto the bed sheets. Sherlock collapsed on top of him, exhausted with their strenuous session of horizontal monster mashing.

“Oh, Sherlock,” John muttered delicately. “Such amaze.”

Sherlock nuzzled into John’s neck as they huddled together on the bed. The rain was beginning to let up and was now a soft drizzle against the windowpane. You know. The rain from before. First paragraph. Beginning and ending with the same thing. It’s literary genius.

Rain.


End file.
